


You are Not the Author

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [39]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Dr. Iplier is a Livesaver, Fear, February 6th, Hemophilia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author is Mentioned, The Host deserves LOVE, oh dear...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: It's February 6th. The day the Author was born. And the Host has gone missing.





	1. Chapter 1

When Dr. Iplier woke in the morning to find a cold, empty bed, he, rightfully, _panicked_.

He scrambled out of bed, completely foregoing changing out of his pajamas in favor of tearing down the hall. He burst into the kitchen, eyes wide and dread settling like a stone in his gut when he noticed one particular ego was still missing. “Has anyone seen the Host?”

Every single elder ego – Dark, Wilford, King, and the Jims – stood in a panic, pushing away from the table and exchanging glances while the younger ones shifted nervously. King grabbed his cape, wringing it in his hands. “Wait, you mean he’s not with you?!”

Dr. Iplier glared at King. “If he was with me I wouldn’t be fucking asking!” He tore at his hair, breath beginning to come in rapid gasps. “God, he _knows_ he shouldn’t be alone today, he _knows_ that, so why would he run off?!”

Eric and Reynolds were looking everywhere, confusion and slight panic present in their faces. “What, what’s happening, what’s wrong, is the Host okay?!”

Dr. Iplier drew a shuddering breath, staring Reynolds in the eye as the two youngest egos waited for answers. “Today’s February 6th,” he said. “Today’s the day the Author was born.”

“Wh-who’s the Author?” There was a collective flinch at Eric’s innocent question.

To everyone’s surprise, the Jims were the ones who answered. They gripped onto each other’s hands, pressed close together. “The Author was who the Host used to be before…” RJ began, trailing off and staring at the floor.

CJ swallowed, pressing closer to his twin before finishing. “…before he tore his eyes out.”

Both Eric and Reynolds paled. “You mean…he did that to _himself?!_ What the _fuck?!_ ”

Dark opened his mouth to reply to Reynolds, but then a loud _crash!_ shook the manor, reverberating from below. Everyone stiffened, and Dr. Iplier began backing away from the group. “That came from the library. I have to go find him!”

Before he could move very far, Dark caught his arm, pulling him back. He fixed him with a hard look, glowing with concern. “Hold on a second. We don’t know what state he’ll be in. You shouldn’t go down there alone.”

Dr. Iplier broke away with a snarl, staring Dark down with such raw fury and indignance that the demon backed up a couple steps. “How _dare_ you,” he hissed. “You’re so _Goddamn_ afraid of the Author that the mere _thought_ of him still _paralyzes_ you, _all_ of you, even after going on six _fucking_ years! Well, I have news for you; you may know the Author, but _I_ know the Host. You weren’t there in the weeks during his shift. You didn’t see how Goddamn _afraid_ he was, how _terrified_ he was of himself. _No one_ is more afraid of the Author than the Host. And I am going to go down there, and I am going to make sure he is _okay_ , and you can shove it right up your ass.”

He spun on his heel and practically bolted to the library, forgetting the others in the wake of the fear making his body run cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Iplier carefully closed the door to the library, cringing with every creak the old door gave. The library was suspiciously silent and _incredibly_ dark with the absence of the Host’s candle in the middle. Fumbling for his phone and turning on the flashlight, he took a couple steps deeper into the library. “…Host? Are you in here?”

He flinched when another loud _crash!_ echoed from somewhere in the library, followed by what suspiciously sounded like a scream. “Host, j-just stay put, okay? I-I-I’m coming to you!”

Stumbling his way through the basement and resolutely ignoring the ice trickling down his spine, he couldn’t help but feel the dread become heavier and heavier as he noticed just how _big_ the library was. It couldn’t _possibly_ fit under the manor, and the manor was _massive._ There was absolutely no way magic was not involved. How was he going to find the Host in this labyrinth?

After wandering for a solid twenty minutes at least, as he approached the back corner, he heard what sounded like muttering, interrupted by soft sobs. He rounded the corner, and finally, _finally_ he spotted the Host, tucked into the far back corner and surrounded by dozens of his books. Dr. Iplier ghosted a hesitant hand over the nearest shelves, broken and splintered and most likely the cause of the noise, before taking a step closer. The Host immediately scrambled back, breathing harshly and pressing himself further against the wall, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. Dr. Iplier raised his hands placatingly – noting that his flashlight illuminated the Host’s missing bandages and bloody features – and took another step forward. “Hey! No, it’s okay, it’s just me! It’s alright!”

The Host swallowed harshly, tilting his head slightly. “D…Doct –” He choked, pulling his knees tighter to his chest with his hands flat against the wall, smearing blood all across it. “Why – why is Dr. Iplier _here_?”

Dr. Iplier quickly closed the distance between them, shoving his phone back in his pocket and crouching down to the Host’s level. “I’m _here_ because I was worried about you.” He cupped the other’s face, not caring about the blood, but his heart sank when the Host flinched, jerking away and curling further in on himself.

The Host gave a broken sob, tilting his head more and radiating such honest confusion that Dr. Iplier’s heart throbbed. “ _Why?_ ”

Dr. Iplier’s heart shattered.

Still, he gave a strained laugh, smiling briefly with the same force. “What do you mean ‘why’? I’m always worried about you, you’re not exactly accident proof, Host. It’s my job to worry about you.”

The Host’s hands flew to his hair, tugging on the strands and painting his blond streak red. “ _Why_ , though, why does Dr. Iplier _care_ , why does _anyone_ care, the Host doesn’t _deserve_ it, he should just be left here to bleed and die and then _finally_ the egos will be _safe_ from _him_.”

Dr. Iplier forced himself to swallow back to the fear that threatened to choke him, and he gently pulled the Host’s hands from his hair, refusing to let go even when he jerked away. When he spoke, his voice cracked, bursting the dam as tears began to pour down his cheeks. “Why would you say that? You don’t…you don’t _believe_ that do you?”

When the Host nodded – far too quickly and far too enthusiastically – Dr. Iplier couldn’t stop the sob, pressing their foreheads together and for the first time the Host didn’t pull away. “Oh God… _please_ stop. Do you know what I would do if you died? I’d fall apart. Completely, totally, irreparably fall apart. _Especially_ knowing that you died like this: alone and scared and in the dark and in _pain_. It…it’d break me.”

The Host gave a dry, mirthless chuckle, turning his head away. “The Host is always in the dark. Always in pain,” he spat. “The Author tore his own eyes out and left the Host to live with the aftermath.” He moved back to face Dr. Iplier, slowly pulling one hand free of his grasp and Dr. Iplier let him. The Host placed it on his cheek, hand shaking and neither caring that he was leaving a bloody handprint as he wiped away the doctor’s tears with his thumb. “Because of him…the Host will never see Dr. Iplier’s face, never _truly_ …see it. He will never see the man he loves so dearly with his own eyes.”

Dr. Iplier was completely speechless, lips parted slightly and silently crying as the Host flinched away, pulling his other hand free roughly in favor of covering his ears and ducking his head. “The Host…the Host can still _hear_ him, hear the Author, _banging_ on the inside of his skull and it’s loud and it _hurts_.” He gasped out a sob, hands sliding up to tear at his hair again. “It _hurts_ and…and…”

“…You’re scared.” Dr. Iplier spoke softly, and the Host completely broke down, face buried between his knees and sobbing heavily, hands fisted tight in his hair. Dr. Iplier pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and resting his chin atop his head. “I’ve said it many times before and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me; you are _not_ the Author. The Author was – in polite terms – a royal _dick_.” He cracked a brief smile when he heard the Host laugh through his sobs. “He was cruel and mean and he hurt people just for the sadistic pleasure of watching them bleed.” He pulled back, cupping the Host’s face and gently guiding him back up to face him. “ _You_ are not like that. You’d never hurt anyone, not intentionally, and _certainly_ never torture and kill someone.”

The Host shook his head, fists tightening. “But the Host _has_ hurt, he _has_ killed. The-the Minor Egos –”

Dr. Iplier flinched, quickly cutting him off. “The Minors were a special case. They’d hurt me, they’d hurt Bing, and I’m pretty sure the only thing stopping them from hurting Wilford was the fact that they literally _couldn’t_. You were just protecting me. Sure you went a little…overboard, but to be fair you _were_ with Google, who practically generates waves of homicidal rage, and Dark…” He shuddered. “My point still stands – you are _nothing_ like him.” He offered him a small smile, and the Host’s hands fell from his hair to grip Dr. Iplier’s wrists instead. “It’s okay to be scared, Host. You don’t have to hide. You’re a part of our family – something the Author _never_ was – and we’ll help you. And trust me, I’m pretty sure the thirteen of us are _plenty_ loud enough to drown out one lunatic inside your head.” He tapped his forehead for emphasis, and the Host burst into laughter again, hiding his face between his knees with shoulders shaking. Dr. Iplier split in a relieved grin, standing slowly. “Come on, let’s get you to my office. Or do you still believe I should leave you here to die?”

Tentatively, and very slowly, the Host stood on shaky legs, still gripping Dr. Iplier’s wrists for support. “…The Host doesn’t want to die. Not yet. He…he will follow Dr. Iplier.”

Dr. Iplier breathed a sigh of relief, still smiling. He tugged the Host in the general direction he came from, but they didn’t get far before he was pulled into a tight hug, the Host gripping him like a lifeline. “…The Host is _very_ thankful towards Dr. Iplier. And…and he loves him. Very much. The Host would just like to…reiterate that.”

Dr. Iplier pressed a kiss to his cheek, hugging him back just as tight. “I love you, too. So _so_ much. Next time, come find me when you have a wish to bleed out alone in your library. Okay?” The Host snorted, and Dr. Iplier gave him one last squeeze before pulling away. “We’ll be okay, Host. _You’ll_ be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

The Host nodded slowly, and the two gradually made their way through the maze of the library and into the light of above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, MY POOR BABY! NOOOOO! God I love the Host. And, as a side note, there will be some A+ Author content coming later this month! It's fucked up! And I love it! Anyway, I promise Sunday's story is like 500 times fluffier. The Host deserves LOVE, the Author deserves DEATH and Dr. Iplier deserves a GODDAMN MEDAL for how much he loves the Host.
> 
> I'm done.


End file.
